


I'm Gonna Need a Cold Shower...

by createandconstruct



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Exploring Teenage Feelings, F/M, Fluff, No Smut, One Shot, Romance, Sexual Tension, shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 13:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10663869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/createandconstruct/pseuds/createandconstruct
Summary: Everyday Betty thanked God for letting someone invent the concept of a hot shower. As for the concept of hiding in a hot shower from a pair of intruders with the one and only Jughead Jones pressed against her; Betty could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a prayer.(Betty and Jughead unexpectedly encounter a new side of their relationship, and expectedly, encounter some criminal activity; this is Riverdale after all.)





	I'm Gonna Need a Cold Shower...

“At this point I’d rather be looking for a needle in a hay stack.”

“Jughead Jones, if you don’t shut up and hold the ladder I will target your head in my fall.”

“A weak tactic Betts, considering I have a hidden skill of catching falling maidens.”

“Oh my _god_.”

They had been at it for hours. Rummaging through every storage space of Riverdale High, searching for a rumored box of old Blue and Gold notebooks and unpublished articles from the early days of the school. Jughead had practically locked Betty in place before she pounced Mr. Weatherbee when he had come by their room to praise their work. Betty figured, it was really to try and bury the hatchet of guilt he seemed to carry towards Jughead after the incident with the Sheriff.  Their principal despite his stiff demeanor truly seemed to care for the students of Riverdale.  Her excitement for a possible physical document of Riverdale’s dark history was sparked as soon as Weatherbee passingly mentioned that some old supplies of their office had been stored in one of the dust-filled closets of the school. Betty had been anxiously waiting for the day to end, so that she could begin the search.

“Mr. Svenson was nice enough to let us stay late to keep looking; we have to at least find something to repay him. Especially if he gets in trouble for us.” Her voice straining as her fingers brushed the top shelf.

“They’re definitely not going to fire the single, one hundred-man powered janitor of the school for staying overtime.” Jughead bantered from below. She shot him a look only to see an ever present smirk plastering his face as both his hands steadied the legs of the ladder.

“Juggie,” she whined “the sooner we find it, the sooner we can go meet Kevin and Ronnie at Pop’s.

“Or… the sooner we give up, the sooner we can go meet Kev and Veronica at Pop’s.” he mimicked back.

Her eyes rolled. Though… the roll of her stomach at the thought of the meal that await them at the diner was making Betty reconsider her stance.

“Fine. Okay. You win. If it’s not on this shelf we can throw in the towel for tonight.” She sighed, moving a hand through a cob-web. “But Monday, Jughead Jones. You will be the ladder climbing Sherlock Holmes.” She stretched up to bush her fingers along the edge of the box above her.

“Understood milady, though I may miss the simple job of being a Watching Watson,”

He was insufferable. She shot him another look as a heat blossomed around her nose.

“Jughead…“she began, ending another eye roll on him only this time she found his sultry smirk replaced with a pale look of horror.

“Betty! Watch out!”

With a quick whip of her ponytail she was facing the now teetering box, which her fingers had never released, as it began its fall off the shelf. The contents were spilling out and over her head before she could give an effort to avoid the incoming disaster. Her face was splattered in something wet and thick as the box fell into her chest. The added weight and now foreign blindness made her usual control falter and her hands shot up to wipe her eyes in a panic, leaving Betty floating away from the ladder.

She could have sworn she heard Jughead yelp as her feet tipped off the ladder. The thought was short lived as Betty was helplessly left to her blinded free fall. Her chest tightened as she steeled herself for the flat and painful impact.

Which never came.

Instead her back was met with a solid cushion that wrapped itself around her waist as its painful grunt cut into her ear. The relief settled in her despite the continuing momentum of the fall led them to the floor.

An echoing crash followed as the ladder’s own journey to the ground ended nearby.

A wheeze brushed by her ear. “Uh… you okay?”

The sticky substance was plastering to her face, her whole back was aching from the impact, but she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from her chest.

“You were right. You are skilled at catching maidens.”

“ _Oh my_ _god_ , _Betty_.”

\--- --- ---

The crash was apparently obnoxiously loud enough that Mr. Svenson’s had heard its finale and he burst into the room nearly seconds later.

Betty had not found any Riverdale artifacts but instead, a recently hidden box of expired art supplies, which, Mr. Svenson angrily decided, was mistakenly mislabeled and stored in the wrong space by one of his colleagues.

Jughead was leading her out into the hallway as she desperately scrubbed the mix of ink and paint from her eyes, and definitely not any tears brewing in their corners. Her exhaustion and frustration was choking around her pure embarrassment especially after she assured Mr. Svenson her confidence that they would carefully execute their search without any trouble.

Now as her hair dyed with a multitude of colors and her thick pink sweater stained with an ugly arrangement of black, she could feel her lip quiver at the new mess she had left everyone in, including herself. She was humiliated.

A warm touch to her hand broke her away.

“ _Betty_.”

Her eyes moved up to meet Jughead’s as he unraveled her fingers from the skin of her palm. She lowered her head to inspect the damage, though he never removed his hand only shifting to hold her wrist.

She hadn’t broken the skin.

“Hey,” his word drew into a breath “no real damage, right? If anything this will finally make Riverdale High move away from an art class based solely in expired paints.”

“Right,” she leaned into him and his words.

The moment was almost broken as Mr. Svenson appeared before them, with a mop now in hand.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Svenson…” she began. “You were already staying over-time for us…”

“Don’t feel bad about it missy, this is the fifth time this school year I’ve had something fall on me.” The short and grey haired man’s voice was raspy and edged with his years. He was a comforting staple of the school, as Pop’s diner was to the heart of the town. “I’m just glad the only thing broken was the ladder! I’ll be through with cleaning with no time lost.”

Betty sighed through a smile. If both Mr. Svenson and Jughead said it was fine, then it was fine. She was fine.

Or would be, as soon as she scrubbed off the horrible stench and stain covering her.

“Sure you don’t need any help?” Jughead offered peering towards the storage room and the probable flood of paint that awaited the man.

Svenson was shaking his head at the thought of assistance. “No, no, you kids don’t worry about that. It’s a Friday night; I don’t want you two ruining a potential date scrubbing down filthy school floors.” He grabbed Jughead’s wrist and turned it upwards to place something in his palm. “Get washed up and then get your butts outta here!”

“A key?” Betty questioned now inspecting the silver item between Jughead’s fingers.

“The girls’ showers are still being repaired, but it’s after school hours, so I’m calling the shots, not Weatherbee!” The old man cackled. “I figure you’d wanna get that paint outta you’re hair before walking downtown.”

“But, the showers are broken.” Jughead offered

“The girls’ showers.” Mr. Svenson corrected.

“So, then…”

“This key’s for the boy’s locker room, after hours it’s the same damn thing as the girl’s. Now scoot!” He brushed by them with his mop resting above the shoulder ready for battle. “Lock the door and bring the key back when you’re done!”

The man had disappeared.

\--- --- ---

Before Betty knew it she was standing behind Jughead as he unlocked the locker room door.

“You don’t have to get washed you know… I have an untouched pair of gym clothes; I never brought it home before health class started.” Jughead offered resting a hand on the knob.

“Thanks Juggie, but I want to get this stuff out of my hair.” She mentioned towards her blonde tangles, now free from the paint splattered hand band. “After, I just want to go to Pop’s, get a milkshake with you, Kevin, and Veronica, and forget this whole day even happened.”

 Yet Betty was making no move to enter the now open door.

“Wel-“

“Could you just-“she blurted out, and his words died in his mouth. A deep wind of air blew out of her nose. “Could you come in with me?”

His eyebrows raised upwards towards the line of his beanie. “Sure. I mean, no problem. I can sit on a bench and write. It’s right outside the shower stalls.”

_Tell him._

“Whatever souls lurk in the cubbies of the hormonal teenage male, I’ll be sure to shield you from them.” He teased.

_Tell him everything._

“Chuck.” She choked out and any joking ceased as he immediately placed a hand to her shoulder. “The stuff with Chuck started when Ronnie and I confronted him in there. I’d just feel better if you were in there with me.”

“Would an obnoxiously loud Betty-pop-playlist make you feel better too?”

“…Definitely.” She beamed.

\--- --- ---

Once she had stripped down and was standing under the nose of the shower head, she really did feel better. Especially as the echoing of her music bounced around the tile. She turned to let the water scald into her back, carefully maneuvering the flip-flops that eclipsed her feet.

Jughead had insisted she wear them. Apparently despite the constant reassuring from Coach Clayton it was a commonly known fact that the shower room floors were never cleaned. The last time was rumored to be the when the years old air conditioning system was finally installed in the science classrooms. She wasn’t going to argue with that fact, and had graciously taken his gifted shoes.

She began finishing up. Without soap there wasn’t much she could do but rinse away the dry coating over her skin. Turning down the water’s strength she called to Jughead above the Santigold song.

“Juggie?” she could tell the music was being lowered. “Are there any towels I could use? I’m almost done.”

“There’s usually a clean set in the coaches’ office!” He called back. “Let me check!”

“Thank you!” She sang after him as the music ended with his now, probably, closed laptop.

Okay, so it wasn’t the most orthodox day, but things usually weren’t with them. Betty felt her chest constrict with something disgustingly happy. She should’ve known Jughead could make the boy’s locker room feel romantic.

On their way to Pop’s she’d be sure to tell him this new discovery and enjoy the definite blush that would spread up and under his beanie.

Oh and she would _definitely_ be filling Vero-

The thought was startled from her as a sudden and sharp crash was screeching from the entrance wall of the showers.

She froze, tuning her head, listening for Jughead.

“Jug!”

No response.

“Jughead! Are you okay?! Did something fall?”

Nothing.

Maybe he couldn’t hear her in the office. Still Betty wondered what he had knocked down, especially since it sounded like _glass_.

Before she could decide to turn the water off and start an investigation she heard the familiar sound of his boots moving closer towards her, quickly. He was running.

“Jug?” she stepped out of the water inching the flip-flops forwards as she expected him to call back.

 In whatever moment Betty was currently living she had at least expected Jughead to maybe throw a towel jokingly at her head and proclaim that they needed to escape from the horrific mess he’d left in the gym teachers’ office.

Never in her entire life or even _fantasies_ did she expect him to slide in front of her as she stood naked by the nozzle of a still running shower.

He was rushing towards her towel in tow.

"Ju-mmf!" The scream was sealed back into her mouth as Jughead's hand eclipsed her face.

Her brain was shouting something at her. Yelling for Betty to do something as he wrapped another arm around her waist and yanked her into him and towards the wall.

Too fast, it was too fast!

She reached to grab for Jughead's free hand because he wasn't even looking at her! She was still spinning as his head shot past her shoulder resting on her still running shower. He let go of her mouth to spin back the knob. The water was silenced and Betty was helplessly cramped into Jughead's side as he pulled them down to the tile. She could feel the pounding of his heart as she was suffocating against him.

" _Someone broke in_." He hissed meeting her eyes and she was once again petrified " _They're in the gym_ " he rested a hand on his own bent knee.

" _They_?!" She squeaked

" _Shh_ -" Jughead's voice was nearly venom, his fear was pouring into her. " _Just_ \- _shhh- they're coming_..." He bit his lips closed as a pair of voices gained sudden volume.

Gruff and in a hurry. The two speakers were echoing into the showers with fluctuating noise, until it became constant. The language was slightly swallowed by the distance, only allowing her to successfully make out a " _check the office room for it_."

They were searching for something, Betty decided, not someone.

For the moment, Jughead and Betty were safe.

A drop from her cancelled shower fell to her back bringing a chill down her bare spine. Betty wasn't breathing. Chills radiated from her back and tingled through her like the massage of water that she usually aimed at her neck when in the shower.

Except the water was off.

 She hardly noticed the cold of the water sliding to the end of her spine. Even the voices of their intruders were sliding through her now muted ears.

Betty had turned off. The sensation was too much.

His hand was on her. His hand, _Jughead's_ _hand,_ was splayed on the back of her right shoulder, her very bare, very unclothed, right shoulder. Which was fine on its own! Hell she wasn't a prude, even sweater wearing Betty Cooper had let herself wear a shoulder bearing shirt with her boyfriend once in a while! Hell, it wasn't that she didn't like when Jughead touched her shoulder. She loved it. It was almost a tradition now, her shoulder was a place for him. When the suffocating wave of Riverdale was drowning them, that single gesture always lead them back to the surface. So no, it wasn't the familiar that was causing her to short-circuit.

The hell Betty found herself in was that this new aspect of it, her no shirt and his dripping wet heavy breathing part of it, somehow she liked it even more.

No... No, no, no, no! What was wrong with her! This was a moment of desperation! They were practically using the showers as a war bunker right now, and she was getting caught up almost thinking of Jughead like _that_! She needed to refocus her tactics. Her eyes found an inch of grime on a square tile by her toe as she attempted to stare a hole into it.

Impossible though, because with every second her thoughts shifted away from his hand she found herself remembering that her entire left side existed. An existence that was still naked, and still sandwiched against Jughead Jones.

Betty had once inexplicably been afraid of the shower drain at the age of five. Archie had watched an entirely inappropriate horror film and shared his own phobia of being sucked down with the water at the end of the bath. Her unfortunate crush and universe held an axis on whatever the boy said, even after she had initially argued against his logic.

That evening, Betty found herself running from the bathroom sink at the sight of its monstrously large hole.

For almost a week her mother had struggled to get Betty to enter a bathroom that she eventually revoked the finality of Betty and Polly’s joint baths so that her sister could help dissipate the fear.

Though even today Betty's chosen worst way to die would still be getting vacuumed up or sucked away; which a marathon of “Final Destination” with Veronica and Kevin had recently reminded her of.

Yet that entire phobia was erased as she begged the drain under her heel to squeeze her away and into freedom.

Her begging mantra was broken by Jughead’s movements away from her and the contact of something plush over her back.

She startled and almost missed the soft breath of an apology that he exhaled as he settled back besides her.

Betty was now covered by a towel.

Jughead moved close to her as he whispered into her ear.

“ _They’re in the office_. _We need to go.”_

She nodded, adrenaline now pumping through her as a flash of fear passed through Jughead’s eyes.

Whatever the hell her body was thinking, was _not_ the priority right now.

With their hands clutched together, the flip flops abandoned, and the towel secured tightly around her chest, they began inching to the opening of the showers.

Jughead peaked his head around and scanning the area. His fingers squeezed around her own.

It was clear.

They thrusted themselves forward to the closest row of blue shelves nearby and positioned into a low crouch. Two more rows to the exit, then a clear sprint to the storage closet were Mr. Svenson waited where they’d call Sheriff Keller and be free of this mess.

Apparently Jughead was a step ahead of her, as she saw him pull out his phone.

After typing something he flashed the screen at her.

It was a message to Kevin and Veronica.

_Break in. school. Call 9-1-1._

Smart. At least that could guarantee a quicker end to this. Now they just needed to stay safe in the time it took for Sheriff Keller and crew to arrive.

Betty rested her hand on the matted fleece of Jughead’s collar as he started to move towards the edge of their blue wall when a demanding husk of a man’s voice cut through the room making him immediately shoot backwards against her chest.

“You sure there’s no kids in here today?” A man demanded maybe three rows away.

Another calmer, collected voice answered. “The times weren’t changed, we checked. Now shut the hell up. We still have two more spots to hit, and if you blow our cover screaming your head off I won’t just shoot the fucking janitor.” Coach Clayton’s office, if the muffle of his voice was any clue of location.

A shivering chill covered Betty as she thought of Mr. Svenson. She prayed he was still occupied with the mess of paint across the school.

“I fucking swear I heard someone in the shower.” The first man hissed out. “I’m not worried about a janitor. It’s these kids and their phones you gotta think about. If one’s in here…” A shuffle of feet moved closer to their row. “All they gotta do is send somethin’ off to the sheriff and we’re fucking done.”

The shuffling was right behind them now. Betty’s breath caught as the sound slid from her back and closer to edge of their row by the shower side. A few more steps and they would be within the line of sight.

Suddenly Jughead had flipped himself towards Betty and was gathering her into his arms. The determination was painted on his face, like he was waiting for a trap he had set to finally pounce.

“Holy shit, someone was in here.” A whisper cut out by the end of the row, a step away from Betty’s vision. “Man, fuck! There’s a bag full of shit and a laptop layin’ here! Some kid must have just bolted!”

“What?” The first man’s distant voice answered.

Before Betty could hear the end of the argument Jughead was pulling her across the tiled floor to the wall opposite the enemy. They were now facing the empty row that the stranger had occupied.

Another shout echoed out from the darkened side of the showers. “Fucking knew it! There’s water everywhere!” But Jughead wasn’t slowing down. Betty struggled to hold her towel let alone keep up with him as moved along them along the wall to the last row before the exit.

“Did I not just tell you to shut your _damn_ mouth?!” The calm man was now radiating rage through a tight whisper that easily met her ears as he lurked closer. The second intruder was now inside the locker room and moving away from their huddled form to his partner.

The exit was clear.

Betty hardly needed Jughead’s direction this time as the clear distance between them and their threats was apparent.

Never letting go of his hand she lunged down the short corridor which led to the locker room door. They nearly ripped the door from its hinges as they pushed into the hallway. The familiar grey of the hallway lockers almost made her cry with joy until she felt Jughead’s hand rip from her own.

Immediately turning to her boyfriend she found him fumbling with the locker room door.

“Jug, come one!” Betty pleaded, yanking a full hand of his jacket.

“Locking it. To buy us some time.” He tested the knob finding it’s positioned stuck, then returned his hand to hers. “Come on.” Her bare feet rapidly followed his own as they raced down the hall.

\---  --- ---

Mr. Svenson’s jaw had almost fallen to the floor with his mop when they had burst back into the storage room.

 They must have been a sight: both soaking wet and only a towel covering her pale frame. Though Jughead had eventually lent her his flannel, jacket, and almost, his pants for her comfort. She put a stop to that idea assuring him that just one of them naked was enough and that she was fine with the flannel tied around her legs and jacket over the shoulders. They waited in the locked storage space with Mr. Svenson guarding the door until the familiar and almost savior-like voice of Sheriff Keller cut through the halls.

Apparently, by the time the police arrived the two intruders had escaped back the way they came as the locker room door exit was sealed tight. Mr. Svenson seemed convinced the intruders’ faces would appear on the security camera, as he rattled off how they had probably disabled the school’s alarm system before breaking into one of the gymnasium’s windows; an action that would be caught on film for sure.

By the end of the initial questioning at the school, Betty and Jughead found themselves being taken to the police station.

“Think you kids deserve some dry clothes and a warm drink on me.” Sheriff Keller had said ushering them into his car, not really leaving a chance for debate.

Thus, Betty found herself in a new set of police sweats pouring Jughead and herself two complimentary Riverdale police-station coffees. She checked her recently returned phone before grabbing the Styrofoam cups.

_GIRL!!! You better call me later! Veronica Lodge wants DETAILS!!!!!_

Veronica. But of course.

Betty giggled, sending a message back.

_Once I’m home I promise….you’ll hear everything._

The meet up at Pop’s was taking an obvious raincheck as Betty and Jughead waited for her mother to pick them up from the station. There was no way Alice Cooper would be letting her out after the events of tonight.

Betty couldn’t complain, she was completely fine with planting herself in a bed as soon as possible.

Slipping the phone into the pocket of the oversized pants she grabbed both cups and made her way across the room to Jughead who was currently slumped over on a wooden bench in his own set of Riverdale police sweats.

“It’s really great you got your laptop back” she motioned a cup to his messenger bag. “I was worried your whole novel would be stolen from a pair of the Three Stooges for a while.” She said lightly.

“Yeah…” his voice softly mumbled, remaining in his curled position not meeting her eye.

She couldn’t fault his slumped posture, she was just as exhausted from the whole debacle.

“Here you go.” She offered the coffee to him.

He barely moved his body besides offering his own hand. She raised a brow, but didn’t question him as she placed the steaming cup into his hand. She took her own place besides him on the bench, and rested the coffee on the floor near her feet.

She looked out a window beyond Jughead’s beanie covered head. The street lights were switching on with the rapid darkening of night. Her mother would be a while yet.

Brushing her hand across Jughead’s knee she reached out to take one of his hands currently folded around the coffee in front of him. She had not expected him to recoil away from her coffee sloshing from his cup.

The hurt must have been obviously etched on her face as immediate guilt was slapped onto his own.

“Sorry, Betty. Just not right now… okay?” he groaned leaning down to abandon his cup on the floor.

“Jug, what’s wrong?” she peered forward attempting to see his face.

“It’s nothing, I just… I need a minute.” He sighed removing his beanie to slide his fingers through his hair in seemingly exasperation.

What?  What was going on?

“Okay…” she reluctantly agreed. “Just tell me what it is; when you’re comfortable okay?”

“Tha-“His voice cracked and a starling red stained the side of his cheeks as he reached to reposition the beanie. His pause in a straightened position allowed Betty’s eyes to wander over him.

She nearly choked when her eyes stopped before his knee.

“ _Oh_!”

“ _God!”_ He muttered collapsing over himself and the very visible _shape_ in his sweats. The image now tattooed in her mind.

The breath she held came shuddering from her lungs as she let her vanilla hands fly to the cherry flush of her checks.

This was _different_.

She looked across the hall blankly as a pair of officer walked by.

This was _something_.

They had never gotten here before. They had never encountered this together. He had been with her in dreams that she could barely remember, but the sensations had never been so real. She had never felt them _next to_ him.

She didn’t run from it: the sensation, the feelings, him. Even with the possibility of panic from this apparent shift between them she couldn't run away.

She didn't want to run away.

Oh no, instead Betty was startled from how much she wanted to pounce into the wave of this feeling. This unequivocal, but startling, happy feeling.

Jughead was suddenly much more than just a boy.

Because she had proof of how he felt, how he could feel, from her. The entire range of emotion, of desire, he had just for her: Elizabeth Cooper.

The familiar urge to kiss him was suffocating.

The concept wasn't different. Boys liked Betty, that was not the issue. The issue she thought lay in herself. She would always be the perfect girl for any small town boy. A charming, innocent, and straight collared boy, like Trev or even a small second grade Archie.

They thought she was all sweet smiles, perfect, and pure. The kind of girl who'd you give a peck on the cheek, introduce to your parents, and label as a "swell gal" never needing to dig into the true woman that lay dormant underneath.

Their ‘like’ was full of insincere and undecided touches which could only skirt on the surface of what she really wanted.  And what she wanted Jughead had suddenly given to her.

Betty found herself unprepared.

 She had never been that girl. She had never made someone feel like this, like she wasn't just daydream of a teenage fantasy, but instead, a real desirable woman. A woman like Cheryl, Val, or Veronica. When girls like that could strut into a room and claw into every boy with just a smile, as if men were always simple and willing prey, Betty thought she'd have to settle for just the longing of a boyish crush that would never meet her desires.

But Jughead was different. He wasn't prey. He wasn't a predator. He was her boyfriend, and he liked her, and he _wanted_ her.

She could practically hear a Veronica like voice swoon, giving a cheer of " _get it girl_." Betty would _definitely_ be filling Ronnie in as soon as possible. 

Betty turned off her hay-wired brain and brought herself back to her boy. He had slouched into himself hiding, from her and the passing officers, the physical guilt of his feelings for her.

The image of a kicked puppy came to mind. A very flushed, kicked puppy.

A giggle passed her lips making him flinch and peer an eye towards her.

"I'm glad you can find humor in this entirely cliché display of male weakness" his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

She could almost roll her eyes if she wasn't also guilty of loving the retort. So instead, she gave him a signature Betty Cooper smile and snort: The classically known Jughead weakness. A flash of blue and red moved across his shoulders from the window as they unsurprisingly deflated.

"I'm sorry." His posture shifted so that his knees faced her own. His eyes still kept away.

He exhaled a frustrating groan. “I know we're a couple and that can... or together it comes with all this." He nodded a head towards the invisible concept, though it only led her eyes to Sheriff Keller at the coffee machine across the room, and not the situation in his lap.

"But for us," he continued, "for what we have, what we are, I didn't... I never wanted to every make you uncomfortable like this. Or like-“his voice caught, “-like I did in the locker room." He finished, and finally surrendered his eyes and the pleading color that was pouring from them.

He thought she was upset with him.

Jughead Jones thought that she, Betty Cooper, was upset that he had seen her naked and gotten an apparent boner after he practically knight-in-shining-armored her from a near murder steered fate.

Apparently her boyfriend needed a lesson in social queues. Or at least another in Betty queues.

"Jughead." Her hand moved to his own. "Had it been any other guy.  Archie or even _Kevin_ ," she gave his hand a squeeze as he smirked. "If any guy had come and dragged me from the shower I probably would've been horrified and humiliated."

In her mind an amalgam of the high school boy filled Jughead's shoes for the night.

 The thought left her beyond empty.

"But it wasn't any guy, it was you. And you're my boyfriend, Juggie." She offered trying to convey the safety and comfort he provided no matter the situation. "Besides, seeing your girlfriend naked so that you could save her from a Hitchcock recreation definitely earns you a get-out-of jail free card, for any male… _predicament,_ " she teased, placing a feathering touch to his cheek.

The speech earned her a rare Jughead-chuckle which vibrated up her fingers and settled into something deeply warm inside. She pressed her hand harder against his cheek.

"Hey, I couldn't just let someone destroy a masterpiece." He quirked a single brow.

"It may be iconic, but I still stand that Fargo is the better film under the Betty Cooper genre of ‘movies with murders and showers’." She jokingly argued.

"Wasn't talking about the movie, Betts."

Originally she thought the shift between them had started when his hand had seared the wet skin of her back as they found refuge in that shower stall, but now, as his thumb rubbed gently along her wrist, the air around them stilled, and his soul bore into every inch of her he touched, she realized how wrong she'd been.

Betty rested her forehead to his own, gripping his hand tightly as an anchor as she bore herself in return.

"Juggie?"

"...Yeah?"

She swallowed. "I like _this_ , with you. I like being like this with you. And... Not now, not with everything being so impossibly wrong. But one day I'd want _that_ \- I want you to see me, and… I want to see all of you too."

The words lay in front of them. She had given him an invitation. A proposal. A promise.

 That she will always want Jughead Jones.

A warm breath tickled down her neck as his anxieties were released. She relished in the comfort between them for only a moment until her chin was drawn up to meet his lips.

Soft, gentle, sealed with passion. Betty was caught in a burn of nostalgia for their first kiss so many months ago, but because of something _new_.

Jughead has promised a fulfillment to her wish; a desire to share many more firsts together, ones that would be scorching with change and feelings she had never met, ones they would sear into their souls forever.

She realized there had always been a force drawing them together maybe even since their early days that had never disappeared; it had simply evolved. Through time they had changed, would continue to change, and what came with that would be foreign for them both.

Yet as the hands that had held her scars safely to his heart shifted up to spin through her damp hair, and her own whispers of devotion traced along the edge of his jaw, she welcomed the change. As long as it was with Jughead, she was entirely ready for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Guess where I thought of this one. Bada Bing Bada Ba. Yep the shower. I loved Lili’s discussion of the basis of Jughead and Betty’s relationship as of the first season. These kids have enough to worry about with themselves, their families, and the town that exploring a sexual side of their relationship is the last thing on their minds. So… I wanted to explore the dawn of the side!  
> ***Side note Mr. Svenson was the janitor in the comics! He literally always hung with Weatherbee and carried around a broom. #make svenson canon  
> Also I wanted this to almost be placed in the time after season one, but I hope it came off as ambiguous so that you can place it wherever you want. Whatever Riverdale brings at the end of this season is pretty unknown right now I can only hope my kids will be safe, together, in a booth at Pop’s.


End file.
